Rotten Glass
by Enele
Summary: "Hey, O isn't home." "I know, I wanted to see you." Maybe it was surprising that Octavia's brother was able to help Clarke with her problems. Then again, maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. A tale to cure the winter blues, featuring text messages, the gang, intimacy and pizza. 1-2 new chapters a week!
1. Restlessness

Hot, liquid anger had flooded her body, poisoning every cell and turning her mind into an irrational, cold-blooded war general. She tried to push it away, but she knew it wouldn't help. She had pushed it away for too many days now. The issue wasn't major, by no means, but she couldn't concentrate on anything else and she desperately needed to send it off for good. She needed to blow off some steam, scream, release the tension. She needed to do _something_.

She put on her shoes. She'd go to Raven. She'd be the right person to vent to, she'd look at her unimpressed and solve the whole issue with one sentence.

She slammed the door behind her, with a loud noise which made her cringe. It wasn't as relieving as she thought it would be.

On her way down, she stopped. She couldn't go to Raven. She was with Shaw-something tonight and she had made it very clear that she didn't want to be disturbed in any way. Plus, she probably was too close to her mother to be truly neutral anyway. Clarke winced. Jasper and Monty were probably free but they'd either be high on jokes or be worried forever that she would never be on right terms with her mum again.

No, she needed someone who would forget about the argument soon, who wouldn't take it too seriously and, basically, just let her rage. She grinned to herself. How ridiculous, that she hadn't thought of Octavia sooner.

Walking to the Blakes helped. Buildings and trees stood dark against the grey sky, slight gusts of wind blew through the streets. People scurried home from work. Not too long and it would turn dark. It felt invigorating – she had a plan, she had somewhere to go to.

The apartment of the Blake siblings was something like the group's base. They met there often, for film nights, birthday parties or games. Octavia lived together with her older brother, they had a nice place and people liked to be there.

Clarke wondered whether Octavia was home anyway, she usually had late classes on Tuesdays. Bellamy might be home. Clarke shrugged – at this point, she just wanted to talk to _anyone_ , really.

She smiled. She hadn't liked Bellamy at first, she actually hated him. They had first met at Octavia's birthday party two years ago and immediately had a huge fight over a minor organisation detail. After that, they couldn't quite stand each other and be in the same room without fighting, always taking opposite sides. Months had passed until each of them realised that the other just wanted the best for everyone as well. They actually started to respect and rely on each other and even hugged after Christmas break – something which Octavia thought "I'd never see". To be honest ... at this point, Clarke couldn't really imagine a life without him.

Come think of it, Bellamy might even help her more than anyone else.

It was him who opened the door. He stood in the frame, filled it out completely and small Clarke had to take a step back. Damn, he looked good. He probably came right out of the shower, his hair lied in wet curls on his head and he had that smirking grin on his face.

"Hi, Clarke."

And he questioningly looked at her and suddenly she realised why she was there and all the raging electricity was back. She took a breath, got into anger-mode and pushed past him.

"Hi. My mother – I need to vent my anger, can I talk to Octavia?" She looked at him expectantly.

Bellamy closed the door.

"Nah, O isn't here."

Clarke kicked off her shoes and her leather jacket, made an impatient noise and went into the kitchen. "Do you have something to drink?"

"Sure," Bellamy said and followed her. She had already opened the fridge and he said, overly permissive: "Help yourself."

She found a bottle which looked like alcohol, filled two little glasses with the liquid and gave one to Bellamy. She took a shot and groaned.

"Everything all right?", Bellamy asked and emptied his glass.

"Obviously not", she said dryly and looked out of the window. She felt the alcohol burning through her body, absorbing the majority of the icy war she sensed in her blood. She took a calm breath. She felt him watching her behind her. Her breathing evened out and the tension in her shoulders steadily vanished. She cleared her throat. "My mother is running wild again."

"Want to tell me about it?"

She winced, she had forgotten how hoarse he could sound like. She turned around while he continued to speak. "I mean, I know I'm not Octavia but I'm sure I'm able to listen just like her."

"I actually just need someone to scream to."

He laughed. "I can sure do that as well."

In the end, she didn't really scream. Most of the heat was gone after the walk, the drink and after seeing him. They sat down on the couch in his room – his room was bigger (and tidier) than O's and had this wonderfully comfortable couch, which is why it was something like a living room and usually became the centre of their meetings pretty fast, so it was super, super natural for two friends to sit next to each other on a cosy couch, right? And making use of the space, being so spread out that their knees were close to touching, right? … Right?

Clarke told Bellamy the story in a calm way and with few words, while he looked intently and with a small line between his eyebrows at her. She summarised how her mother and her had exchanged numerous e-mails during the last days which became more and more passive-aggressive. Basically, her mother wanted her to take different classes, to talk to professors about her progress, to dilly-dally less and work harder. Clarke tried to tell her that she was doing what she could, that she liked her classes and already worked well. It went back and forth and ended with an e-mail an hour ago. Her mother had made a job appointment for her at the local hospital.

"I mean, I don't even WANT to work at the hospital!", Clarke burst out. "I have enough other stuff to do! And, besides, why does she want me to do that, anyway? Sh-"

"She cares for you, Clarke", Bellamy said softly.

Clarke looked at him. His eyes were really soft and caring and it confused her a lot, so she looked away and across the room.

"But she doesn't have to!", she mumbled faintly. "I moved here _months_ ago and I'm doing pretty fine." She took a deep breath and stared out of the window. "I really don't know why she can't trust me I'm doing things well."

A moment passed. Then another. Bellamy shifted and put his arm on the backrest. "Want to hear my opinion on that?"

His eyes were more … concentrated now. After a short nod by Clarke, he continued: "You once told me to use not only my heart, but also my head – I know you were half joking back then, but it was honestly good advice nevertheless. And this is the advice I'm giving you."

She remembered her comment, but she couldn't really follow him.

"Look ..." He shifted again. "You obviously love each other a lot. But this might be better solved with a bit of head as well. Tell her to let it be-"

"I did!"

"No, like, really. Dunno, call her tomorrow, say you thought about it, in a calm way, and that you will do it your way now. Make your own mistakes. Stuff like that. And let it be and leave her alone with it."

Clarke's eyes ran over his features. Estimating. He had nice laugher lines around his eyes.

After a while, she looked away, rolled her lips and cleared her throat. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

They exchanged a silent mischievous smile and looked out of the window together. Wind brushed through the trees in front of it, making the empty branches perform rhythmic dances against the cloudy sky. It looked like it might rain soon.

"Thanks, Bellamy. I feel better now."

"You're welcome, Clarke."

She shifted, let her eyes sparkle and looked at him expectantly. "So, what's going on in your life?"

"Not much."

Clarke looked at him with a risen eyebrow. There were always things going on in Bellamy's life. He worked in the security department of a shopping centre and Clarke didn't know what girl in his life was relevant right now (or if there even was one).

"Work's shitty at the moment. Something got stolen in one of the shops – luckily it wasn't during my shift. The boss is totally pissed off about it."

"Did he fire anyone?"

"Not yet. Happened yesterday, so no-one really knows who's to blame yet."

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Nah, it doesn't." He paused. "O's with her boyfriend all the time, so when I'm home, I don't see her very often." He sounded sad.

Clarke let that sink in. It surprised her that Bellamy actually shared his sorrows with her because she hadn't really noticed him doing that before. It flattered her that he actually thought she would able to help him, that he took her seriously like that. But one of her off-hand comments without much afterthoughts had indeed made him feel better once apparently, right? So maybe her opinions _were_ important to him. And today, he released her tension and maybe all these unintentional admittances and comments which let to them supporting each other – today, on this couch … Maybe it was the beginning of something new. And she knew it was something she wanted to cherish, protect. Honour.

It caused her to say seriously: "She sounds happy whenever I talk to her, though."

"I don't like him."

She laughed. "You liked none of her boyfriends, Bellamy! Seriously, Lincoln's cool. He's very friendly, and strong, and he's steady where Octavia is not. He's her rock. They fit together pretty well."

Bellamy snorted. He wore that firm expression, jaw tightened, puckered brows. Clarke scanned his face and realised where the problem was. She swallowed. He wanted Octavia's rock to be _him_.

"You know she will always love you?", she asked quietly. "She will always rely on you and she'll never stop come to you."

Bellamy still didn't look very convinced. He winced. "I don't believe he's really good for her. Do you know where he grew up?"

"Gosh, Bellamy, yes, I know where he comes from!", Clarke groaned. "But that doesn't really mean anything about his values, strength or weaknesses, does it? … It's like you growing up poor and still becoming that awesome dude that you are."

Bellamy looked at her like she was a discovery he tried to figure out. Then he snorted and moved away, but still in thought. Clarke hid a smile. He knew she was right.

The silence between them stretched, but it was a comfortable silence with both of them in their respective thoughts. Then Bellamy looked at the clock and pulled a face. "I have to be at work in half an hour."

"Let me just collect my stuff quickly, then I'll leave you alone." Clarke stood up. "Night's shift?"

Bellamy nodded, then accompanied her to the door.

"Thanks for listening", she said.

"Well, I thank _you_."

They grinned at it each other and it was dangerously devoted. Hastily, she got dressed. "Now I'll just have to brace myself for that talk with my mum."

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

She glanced at him. He looked like he really meant it and suddenly, she was really happy she talked to him and not to anyone else. She swallowed. "See you on Friday? It's film night."

"I know, my room will be occupied with hungry and noisy people", he grinned and opened the door. She smiled and touched his arm for a good-bye, stepped through the door and pressed the elevator button.

When she looked back, Bellamy was still standing in his door, but he looked deep in thought. His expression suddenly worried, he looked as if he was about to kick the wall. "You know what, Clarke? You can be happy you still have a mother at all."

A wave of freezing outrage went through her, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She knew what Bellamy was aiming for but she wouldn't let him go there. "I am. I know how it feels, Bellamy. I lost a parent, too."

She wasn't sure if she was able to kick him out of his guilt trip, but his next remark sounded more deliberating than depressed. "Maybe that's the problem. She probably doesn't want to loose you as well."

The elevator door opened with a ding. "See you on Friday, Princess", he said, gave her a last, dismissive smile and all Clarke could do was to smile back and step into the elevator.

Bellamy's door was shut down before the elevator's doors were fully closed.


	2. Notifications

The next morning, Clarke had two new messages.

 **Bellamy Blake** 02:17 a.m.

 _hope i could help you with your mum_

 **Bellamy Blake** 02:17 a.m.

 _despite being a douchebag_

On the way to her early class, Clarke replied.

 **Clarke Griffin** 07:45 a.m.

 _ok please explain_

 **Bellamy Blake** 07:56 a.m.

 _well the good-bye wasn't really nice_

 _sry about that_

He probably meant that comment about still having a parent. Clarke sighed.

She didn't really know what had gotten into him, nor where the sudden change in mood had come from. Maybe it had just been the conversations before, opening his mind for some thoughts which are usually carefully stored away.

Which was something she could relate to. The weirdest things could trigger memories of her dad and ruin her whole day. She couldn't really blame Bellamy. By now, she'd rather have him speak his thoughts than watching him eat them up. She didn't really like the idea of him sitting in front of TV screens at night, all alone with his thoughts and too much time to explore them.

 **Clarke Griffin** 07:57 a.m.

 _it's ok, already forgotten_

And she meant it.

They continued texting each other for the next days, talking about matters of unimportance. Clarke enthused about her lunch, Bellamy grumbled about the tension at work.

That was also new. They had always texted each other from time to time, but it was about organisation and meet-ups and nothing like the current constant stream of light-hearted exchanges.

Clarke decided she liked that as well.

On Thursday, Bellamy texted Clarke in the middle of her lecture.

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:13 a.m.

 _do u think raven forces us to watch another scifi thing just to rant about all the scientific inaccuracies_

 _She tried not to giggle out loud and quickly continued taking her notes. But her concentration was gone and she couldn't prevent herself from answering a few minutes later._

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:28 a.m.

 _she's usually right though_

 _and as if you wouldn't do the same with your history dramas_

His answer came quickly.

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:29 a.m.

 _point taken_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:30 a.m.

 _don't you have to be at work?!_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:30 a.m.

 _I can literally sense your risen eyebrow rn_

 _no i have a day off_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:33 a.m.

 _I told my mum to leave me alone last night_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:33 a.m.

 _what did she say_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:34 a.m.

 _no idea she hasn't answered yet_

 _I wrote her a loooooooong email and explained myself (again)_

 _241 words_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:35 a.m.

 _whoa_

 _I'm impressed_

 _hope she'll understand_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:35 a.m.

 _me too_

 _will you make it on friday?_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:38 a.m.

 _sure_

 _i'll work on the weekend_

 _i HAVE to see how monty hides a romcom on the dvd suggestion pile_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:38 a.m.

 _hahaha_

 _you're rude_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:39 a.m.

 _but it's true!_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:40 a.m.

 _I know hahaha_

 _and I predict that jasper brings some trashy horror film with dumb girls running around half-naked_

 **Bellamy Blake** 11:42 a.m.

 _and o an action thing with guns and swords_

 **Clarke Griffin** 11:44 a.m.

 _oh god yes!_

 _uh the lecture is wrapping up_

 _see you_

 _xoxoxo_

* * *

A/N: Formatting this has been a pain. Sorry that this is so short but it made sense, narrative-wise, to split here. Next (and more interesting) chapter comes on Wednesday! (Film night!) Thank you so much for reading. If you want, you can also check out my story tag on tumblr where I babble about this - link in my bio. I hope you had fun!


	3. Film Rolls

At the Blake's, there was an easy buzz while the gang settled into their places and made preparations. Bellamy was in the kitchen preparing snacks with Miller and Murphy while Raven set up the TV in his room and made grumbled comments on the state of his equipment. Jasper lured Monty and Harper into a small pillow fight about the best cushions for sitting on the ground. Lincoln tried to get a small last-minute nap on the couch – it was the end of the week after all – but it was pointless, really, and he happily accepted the bottle of beer Octavia gave him, making room for her.

"Bell convinced Murphy to chop some fruits and veggies", O announced. "Because, and I quote, 'we can't just eat chips and popcorn all the time, Murphy, we need to eat something healthy, too'. Murphy looked like he was gonna chop _him_."

Raven snorted and plopped down next to her, forcing Octavia and Lincoln to shift around to make room. "Imagine if Clarke were there with him."

"She'd give us a lecture on the nutritional pyramid", O said drily.

"Ha!", Raven made. "And made sure we'd actually eat it."

"Or feed us", Harper said conspiratorially.

"Nah, she would rather _force us_ to eat it, Bell would feed us", O grinned.

They burst into laughter and Monty used Harper's diverted attention to steal a particularly soft pillow. Raven passed various bottles of beverages around and Jasper asked loudly:

"Where the hell is Clarke anyway?"

"She had to meet with her lab group and comes a bit later!", Bellamy shouted from the kitchen.

It was silent for a moment. Then Raven muttered to Octavia: "Why the heck did she tell _him_ and not us?"

"Well, Rayes …" Murphy waltzed into the room with two bowls and sat down on Bellamy's bed. "I don't know how to tell you but ..." And he made a saucy face.

"There is definitely something going on between those two", Harper said conspiratorially, balancing on an impressively huge pile of pillows.

" _Murphy_ ", said Octavia. "You know Bell's bed is off limits."

Murphy stretched all over the bed. "And why is that?", Murphy said flatly.

"Everyone knows that his bed is Bellamy's hallow." Miller had come into the room with a tray full of delicious things. And fruits and vegetables.

Octavia sighed and looked at the bed longingly. "He chucks everyone off who dares to sit on it. Even me." She whispered: "It's so damn comfortable. It's like the heaven of beds."

"Oookay", said Lincoln. "Maybe turn down the drama a bit."

Octavia just shrugged and cuddled into Lincoln. "Just trying to prevent it."

Jasper, Monty and Harper announced a truce (or Harper winner, but interpretation of events really depended on the perspective) and built a pillow sea with enough space for Miller, too.

Bellamy came into the room with a bowl of popcorn and as soon as he saw Murphy laying there, he growled: "Get off my bed."

Murphy revolted. "Damn, bro, every other place is taken!"

"Move", Bellamy said. He stood over him and suddenly was three feet taller than normal. The air was thick and O rolled with her eyes.

"They really can't talk like normal people, can they?", she muttered.

"It's their way of showing their love, I guess", Raven said and took a sip of beer.

Bellamy and Murphy stared each other down. Then, Murphy sharply said "You're completely nuts!", and glided off the bed.

Jasper and Lincoln went for the snacks, starting to update each other on their weeks, and Bellamy settled down on his bed satisfied.

* * *

Clarke arrived a few minutes later, out of breath and with deranged hair. "I'm so sorry but my lab group can be complete shit sometimes."

Her friends greeted her with cheers and she gladly accepted the bottle Miller handed her.

"Don't worry, we haven't started yet", Monty said.

She quickly let her eyes roam over the pile of bodies, pillows, bottles and snacks that had arouse in Bellamy's room and found some free space next to Bellamy. She dropped down and continued ranting. Her friends watched her with concern. "Seriously, we argued full fifteen minutes about who should write which part."

She took a sip and their faces were still alarmed. "I know, right? It was so childish, for god's sake. And we didn't even start proof-reading yet."

But they weren't really concerned about Clarke's group project. Rather, they expected Bellamy to throw her off his bed, too. But he only opened his mouth to ask her when the project was due.

"We have to hand it in next Wednesday and I just hope that everyone makes a good job and that I don't have to re-write tons of shit on Tuesday evening."

Bellamy still didn't make a move to push her away. Slowly everyone realised it would very likely never happen at all.

"I'm working together with complete idiots", Clarke grunted and took another sip.

Murphy wasn't going to accept it, though. "Aren't you gonna chuck her off?"

"What?", Clarke asked confused. Murphy gestured towards her and Bellamy on the bed.

Bellamy said matter-of-factly: "It's the only free spot and I'm not gonna be rude."

Half of the group caught their breaths, the other half dropped their glances. Harper smirked at Monty and mouthed "Told ya". Lincoln cleared his throat quietly and Murphy muttered "For fucks sake". Bellamy had make it clear that this wasn't going to be discussed any longer.

Clarke decided to ignore whatever it was that had just happened and pointed to the pile of DVDs in the middle. "Did you guys make any decision yet?"

"No, not really", Jasper said.

"We wanted to wait for your artsy indie film", Bellamy teased her, right in the moment when Clarke put _Lost in Translation_ on the pile.

Her surprise and his sparkling eyes sidetracked her for a moment, until Jasper demanded their attention again. "Actually, we all waited for this wonderful piece of horror film which we should _definitively_ watch."

"This looks like trash", Raven said shortly.

"But _Jupiter Ascending_ isn't trash?!", Jasper snapped back.

"It's _good_ trash!"

"I'm for _Dark Knight_ , actually", Octavia said. "Or _Gladiator_."

Bellamy winced. "I will not watch this flawed thing again! Lucilla actually – wait, who put _The Princess Diaries_ onto the pile?"

When Monty suddenly was very interested in his nails, Clarke couldn't help but grin into her bottle. Bellamy started to chuckle next to her, too, and their eyes found each other. She caught his face for the first time that night properly. Warm light coloured his skin and his dark eyes sparkled in the shadows under his curls. She tilted her head back and grinned. His lips curved into this huge smile with these laughter lines and Clarke felt really protected and confident. They chuckled again and slowly turned their attention back to the room.

Raven let go a deep sigh and mumbled to Harper: "Whatever just happened … I'm already one hundred percent done with them."

* * *

In the end, they watched Jasper's horror film, decided by lot.

"Have the characters in a horror film ever _seen_ a horror film?!", Octavia whined afterwards. "I mean, it's common sense that you shouldn't go into your basement during a power blackout and ignore any weird noises, for god's sake."

Monty laughed so hard at that that he had to hold on to the wall while putting on his shoes.

"We'll see each other next Friday again?", Murphy asked. Bellamy grunted.

"I have to work next Friday, sorry", Miller said.

"Is it game night then?", Raven asked.

"Yes, game night!", Jasper shouted. "I'll bring Monopoly and dare anyone of you wanting to use the barrow!"

"How can anyone be so enthusiastic about Monopoly ...", O said.

"Don't worry, I'll bring some cards with me", Raven said.

"Will you also bring that Shawn guy with you?", Clarke asked her.

"Oooooh!", Monty made. "We _have_ to meet him!"

Raven grimaced and put her jacket on. "It's Shaw."

"That sounds more like a last name?", Lincoln said.

"Yeah, he used to go by his second name, Zeke, but now there are some legal issues with his name at his work."

"Legal issues?", Bellamy asked.

"With his _name?_ ", Clarke asked.

"… at his work?", Monty asked.

Raven groaned. "Look, just ask him yourself next week, okay?"

Harper smirked. "So you'll bring him."

Raven looked at her grinning friends and pulled a face. " _Fine_."

* * *

A/N: Fun fact: There apparently has really been a problem with Shaw's name on the show. I also uploaded a floor plan of the Blake apartment in my story tag for reference.


	4. Urgency

After film night, Clarke's weekend started quite well. She woke up on Saturday surprisingly rested and eager to be productive. Without any second thoughts or problems of motivation, she wrote the first draft of her lab report part and worked on the huge pile of other homework. She made herself a salad with chicken, nuts and avocado and felt damn healthy. Antoni would be proud of her. She cleaned her kitchen and changed her bed cloths, took a long shower, fell into her fresh bed and felt wholly _good_. God, the whole of Fab Five would be proud of her.

The surprising mixture of working much and yet feeling great sustained on Sunday, where she finished her lab report, send it to the others and bothered about an important test on Wednesday.

It didn't last until Monday, though.

She woke up feeling heavy like a stone. She hadn't slept well, dreaming weird things and awaking every few hours. Her routine morning procedure seemed more complicated than ever and she nearly took the wrong train to uni. In a text message to Bellamy she made it seem like fun but she definitively didn't feel like laughing. It didn't go better after two cups of strong coffee and certainly not after her lab partners told her that they hadn't even _started_ writing their parts yet. She made quite a scene in the corridor and stormed off to the ladies room afterwards. Seeing her face in the mirror, with these deep lines and the lack of make-up, she realised how done she looked. She hoped she had at least made quite the impression on her lab group and would have their reports by evening. Hopefully the day would be over soon. She hated it – but much more she hated herself.

* * *

Of course her e-mail account was empty when she came home, as empty as a sheet of fresh white printer paper. No lab reports, no answer from her mum and Bellamy hadn't replied to her text either. The dinner nearly got burnt, she failed at studying for the test and cursed about her current state of life a bit too loud and a bit too angry. When she eventually went to bed, she just prayed the next day would be better.

* * *

Of course, it wasn't.

Heavy rain fell against the windows as she stood up. Clarke was hungry, she was cold and had a headache. Over the day, everything that could go wrong _went_ _wrong_. The professor narrowed the test's focus down to the wrong topics. Her bag broke and she had to carry her things in a plastic bag across campus. Every piece of her things and herself was drenched from the rain. During the lecture, she tried to plan her next steps towards a successful lab report and test and panicked. Lunch at the cafeteria was shit and didn't make her feel any better. Buying coke did a little bit.

She got the first lap report at five o'clock and it was horrible. She started proof-reading it and sent it back when the got the second. It – thank god – was so good she only had correct that one little typo.

The last part never came. At 8 p.m. her lab partner sent her a short mail about being sick and not being at uni tomorrow. And not handing in his part.

She screamed internally, texted her friend's group chat "COMPLETE IDIOTS" and started writing his part. She was angry, yes, she drunk too much coke, yes, and she probably was an idiot herself for writing his part, yes, but she couldn't hand in a faulty lab report.

It took her long after midnight. While the printer did its job, Clarke fell on her bed and didn't want to move – ever again. She drifted into sleep and realised too late she didn't study for the test tomorrow.

* * *

Wednesday started with the sun shining into her face but as soon as she ran across the campus to hand in their lab report, rain drops again fell on her face and hair and shoulders.

When the professor came in with a pile of copies, she suddenly remembered the text and could only just stop herself from cursing right into the professor's face.

The food at the cafeteria was shitty, again, and as she sat there alone, forcing herself to eat and realising that her mother hadn't talked to her _for a week_ , she decided that her life was just as shitty as cafeteria food.

She was down and she knew it. And she knew she should do something about it, as always.

The problem was that she didn't have any strength to pull her out of it by herself. She had have several depressed times in her past, days and weeks where everything went wrong and broke apart, but she always managed to go on, keep her head up high and keep fighting. Only now, she couldn't. She noticed how it was over, how every ounce of power had left her body and she just wanted to curl herself into her bed with food and never get out of it again. But her Wednesdays were long and she _had_ to go to classes, otherwise the resulting work load would be the reason of her actual death.

Oh god, she needed holidays so badly. She grabbed her things and left for the next lecture.

* * *

Clarke was able to leave the campus at 6 p.m. On her way home, she did some grocery shopping and nearly cried about the heaviness of her back. She didn't. She still had some dignity left somewhere.

Everything in her flat and especially in her kitchen reminded her of her mum. Of how they both brought the furniture, how they painted the kitchen walls and how they organised her devices. A week later, Clarke had re-arranged everything the way she wanted it, but still, her mother was with her.

She hit her foot on the table and inhaled air sharply, forcing back tears of pain while observing the dark rain clouds outside. It really were those long, dim weeks before winter, where the cold settled down between the buildings in preparation for the chilly months to come, where sharp, icey winds blew the last colourful leaves away and where rain turned every surface into slick and dark holes swallowing every light.

She threw her shopping items into the fridge and closed the door with a loud noise. Her eyes fell on the pictures she had pinned to the door with magnets. The clique at one of their game nights, a snapshot where everyone looked dork-y but exactly how they were. She and Wells at graduation. The house she grew up in. Octavia, Raven and her at Monty's birthday party where he wanted everyone to dress up nicely and the girls decided to turn up "smoking hot" (Clarke had felt so unsure about her dress but, damn, she never felt more sexy when the boys' eyes nearly fell out at her sight). The arts museum in her home town. Her dad. Her parents at the beach.

Abby was still her mother after all. And Clarke probably pushed her away. What the hell was she thinking? Anger made room for grief.

Suddenly, Clarke came into motion. She ran through the flat searching for her phone, found it on the mess called night's cupboard and called her mother.

Finally there was the ringing tone, then the second. She sat down on her bed, the suspense nearly killed her.

While the phone let go some more ringing tones, Clarke looked around her small room. What a mess she made in the last few days. Everywhere were book piles, folders, clothes, dishes. Her bedside locker looked horrible. While waiting for her mother to pick up, Clarke tidied it a bit, organised the books and cables, threw old tissues away and opened the drawers.

She froze. There were sketches. Old facial drawings, back from when she had that sketch-pad with the rough, beige paper. She immediately knew what it was (or rather, who) but couldn't believe it survive _in her bedside locker_ so long. She pulled the paper out of the board. Clarke was shocked.

The drawing in front of her eyes merged with images of the person, echoes of feelings under her finger tips, memories of sounds and buzzes through her bones.

A long, oval face with a narrow nose and huge, round, light eyes. The long hair in a half up-do. The lips, so full, round and soft, and pink. And her skin had been so clean and pure, at all times, and always with that gentle glow. And her _scent_.

Damn, she had loved her so much.

But something acidic resonated with the drawing. It reminded her how things broke apart. How, in a situation where she was far away from home, separated from mother and father, in a new environment, where she was busy keeping her head above water, under pressure of all kinds, how that woman suddenly appeared and made her feel _so good_. She understood her, she showed her how to live better. They were so fascinated by each other. Clarke had a lump in her throat. Beautiful memories filled her mind, a constant flow of images breaking at her inner eye, lulling her.

And then she had left, so suddenly Clarke couldn't even say farewell. Tears filled Clarke's eyes. Lexa had taken her heart and shuttered it into pieces. She didn't even know what she really felt for her … – shit, _Clarke_ never got to tell her how much she had meant to her. And now she was gone, she had left, and she had left _Clarke,_ left her alone in her flat and all by herself.

She didn't even know where she lived today or what she did with her life.

In a resolute motion, Clarke finished the call, stood up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. It wasn't good being alone with that kind of thoughts. She desperately needed to let everything out. Let everything out to someone who would give constructive criticism.

But the tears didn't stop right away so she packed her bag with her view blurred by tears. She grabbed comfy clothes, microwave popcorn and a tooth brush. Who knew what the evening would bring. She let go a deep, concentrated sigh.

In the bathroom, she washed her face with ice-cold water and felt ready to face the outer world. She just had to survive a quick bus drive and then she could break down completely.

* * *

She rang the bell at the Blake's apartment building and heart Bellamy on the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Clarke."

"Heeeeeeeey, come iiiinnnn!"

The door buzzed and Clarke quickly pulled it open. She was slightly confused about Bellamy's reaction, it was _way_ too happy and euphoric.

When she stepped out of the elevator and saw him in his door, she knew why.

There stood a girl in front of Bellamy.


	5. Drops

The girl – or rather, woman – was taller than Clarke, seemed to be their age, had brown hair and her posture had something pleading. She was kinda hot. She stood close to a grumpy Bellamy and looked at him with an ailing expression. When Bellamy spot Clarke, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and, for a moment, he looked at her seeking help, before pulling a joyfully excited face.

"Hey, baby!", Bellamy shouted across the hall.

Clarke cringed. He never called her "baby", never ever, because she didn't want to be put on a level with a toddler and they also didn't had that kind of a relationship. The girl turned around hastily.

And then she realised that _it was their code._ The code their friends agreed upon for club and bar nights to get out of uncomfortable situations. Away from people who only accepted a No from an apparent, usually heterosexual, partner. It usually worked, sometimes with a bit of PDA, and once, even Murphy put an arm around Clarke's shoulder and asked a shady boy if everything was alright with him and "my girlfriend". But Bellamy didn't use their code normally.

Her feet were already carrying her to him. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind within split-seconds. She didn't know the girl and she didn't know what kind of relationship she and Bellamy were having. The girl wore an estimating expression, slightly haunted and possessive. But Bellamy, who respected and honoured people and their sentiments, wouldn't ask her for fooling that girl if he couldn't help it. He trusted her and she trusted him and he needed help right now.

That's what allies were there for, right?

And that's how Clarke replied "Hey, babe!" with a huge smile across her face, ignored the shocked girl and didn't stop when she stepped into Bellamy's personal space. She stretched herself, held Bellamy's collar and pressed her lips onto his.

Suddenly, everything exploded. Every part of her body trembled. She probably crossed a line right now, but Bellamy put his arm around her and dragged her closer, heat radiated from his touch and ran through her whole body, a hand of hers found its way to Bellamy's neck and pulled him down, her legs shuddered and her breathing was fast-paced and irregular –

They parted and shared a quick smile which ripped right into Clarke's heart, caught their breaths and turned around as if a quick, intense hello kiss like that was nothing new to them. They expectantly looked at the girl.

She closed her opened mouth and looked kind of sickened. "That's – … is she – … _you have a girlfriend?!"_

Clarke's mind zoomed. Girlfriend. This kiss had shocked her as well, her body's reaction wasn't really planned to be like that, and it sunk in that she really, really, really liked standing to close to Bellamy, so tall, protective, safe –

"I told you there's nothing from my part", said Bellamy matter-of-factly and Clarke shivered at his deep, hoarse voice.

The unknown girl looked from Bellamy to Clarke and back again and tried to form a sentence.

Bellamy laid his arm around Clarke's shoulders. The unexpected touch hit her heart, deeply, and she nearly let go a sob. But she managed to play along and smiled at the girl. "Bye then", said Clarke, while Bellamy guided her through the open door into his flat.

With a last look at the girl Bellamy said "You find the way out yourself?" and shut the door with a bang.

"Whoa, we were evil", said Clarke and pressed her face and hands on Bellamy's door in order to look through the spyhole. On the one hand, she wanted to see how the girl left but, most importantly, she wanted to give herself the ability to gain control over their facial expressions again. According to how her cheeks burnt, she was pretty sure they were red and she could imagine quite well that the emotional roller-coaster was represented in her features very well. Bellamy could use this moment as well – maybe – hopefully – most likely … not.

"Hey", Bellamy said in a low voice next to her. "O isn't home."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see you.", whispered Clarke back, eyes glued to the spyhole.

"What is she doing?", Bellamy asked quietly, meaning the girl. He was much closer than she thought he was and Clarke jumped a little.

"She's, eh, she's still standing there", Clarke whispered slowly. "Ah, now she's going to the elevator … she steps inside … and now she's gone." Clarke smiled and turned around. "Hey Bellamy."

"Hey. So, thank you", Bellamy said in normal volume. "I met her at work and … well, it's a bit embarrassing, but she wanted to walk me home and I couldn't shake her off. I think I just smiled at her too often … well. Sorry for using the code. I didn't know what to do, she didn't let go."

Instead of listing some of the things he could have done instead like a normal person (he was standing in front of his own flat after all), she muttered:

"To be fair, your smile does have some persuasiveness." She nearly swallowed her tongue after she realised what she had said.

"Guess I should keep you around then", Bellamy said with a smirk. _For fuck's sake._ It looked good on him.

But this was too much. She was way too depleted of the hormonal cocktail called emotions in her body and the kiss and its resulting affection had left her totally confused and puzzled. She wanted to laugh _so bad_ , to straighten up and start new, but this _flirting_ now didn't help her emotional state at all and all exhaustion, emotional and physical, filled every cell of her body again, rushing over her, forcing her to lose control and there was a pressure behind her eyes and tears –

"Whoa, Clarke, what's going on?" Bellamy's body language switched in an instant. Where he had been tall, bantering and dominant, he was now soft, peaceful and caring.

That didn't really help either.

"I just ..." But her voice broke and she tired to pull herself together again, distorted her eyebrows, wrinkled her nose, forced the tears back, breathed, found her voice again. "It just all added up, you know." And she had to roll her lips and nod pleadingly because now small sobs really forced themselves out of her.

"Clarke!" Bellamy came closer and put a hand on her arm.

"It's just", she interrupted him. "It's just that this week hasn't really been nice, you know, emotion-wise and …" She had to look away for a moment and breath. "I haven't slept enough and didn't eat well and I remembered all the things which had happened to me in my life and –" She shrugged slightly as a sniff caught her again. Her voice broke but she kept talking. " – how I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to survive, you know."

She couldn't bear looking into his observing eyes so she watched away. Her hands were clashed before her stomach and something in her shook, making her uneasy. "And my mother hasn't called me back."

"Okay, you know what?", Bellamy said. "You'll stay. I actually would have had to work tonight but no way you'll be alone now."

"No, Bellamy!", Clarke burst out. "We can do this –"

"No", he said determined and pulled out his phone. "Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be there in a minute."

Clarke sat down on the long side of Bellamy's bed. When Bellamy's attention was away from her, Clarke realised that all her sorrows, problems and confusions built a tight, tight nest in her chest and attracted every muscle around them like a black hole. She dropped her head and put her elbow on her knees. Her mind rattled and twisted and behaved really unhealthy.

Bellamy came into the room with his hands on his waist. "I switched my shift with Miller. Need to work on the weekend then."

A tear fell on Clarke's cheek and now she couldn't stop, her mouth distorted and she swallowed hard and she shakingly said: "I think I've ruined it with my mum completely."

Immediately, Bellamy was in front of her, cowering, holding her hands. She couldn't believe how small her own fingers looked in his. She looked up and saw the worry in his eyes.

"She hasn't reached out for me in a week. A _week_ , Bellamy."

He stroke her knuckles and kept his eyes on her. "Have you tried calling her?"

"I did!", Clarke cried. "I did, but she didn't pick up. I can't do it any more. Anything", she said, all energy removed from her body. She let her head drop again and tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry, running down her nose and dropping on their intertwined fingers. Her throat tied up and suddenly she got the sniffles. "This week was so bad."

Bellamy, still stroking her hand, waited and Clarke swallowed. She had to tell him everything, he needed to understand. "I felt so good on the weekend but then, on Monday, it just went downhill. The lab report is total rubbish and I had to work way too much and nothing worked out and now I hate my fellow students and I probably failed an important test."

Bellamy swallowed and Clarke continued. "It sounds so pathetic, I know, but it really dragged me down. It's so grey outside, Bellamy. And then I seriously miss my mother and I'm afraid I've went too far and when I was tidying up, I've found a drawing of Lexa and …" She had to stop because now her body flinched with snobs. But Bellamy kept moving his fingertips in a calming, simple movement. "… and I remembered how every good thing got ruined or was fake and god, Bellamy. This feels too much for me. I feel like everything is so hard and I'm left alone to deal with it."

Suddenly, his sweet movements turn harsh and he squeezes her hands. "You're not alone, Clarke."

She sniffled and tried to blink her tears away to see normal again. It didn't work.

"Clarke, seriously, look at me", Bellamy ordered.

Clarke found his eyes. They were full of serious worry. He looked as if he was about to cry himself.

"Don't go. You've done incredibly brave things, okay? Turning away from your mum?" He shifted his weight but kept sinking into her eyes, looking up to her in wonder. "You had everything, you – you didn't need to think about where you should get your next meal from, you had a warm and clean home, you didn't need to worry about your school fees. But you didn't want to be depending on your mum any longer, you wanted to be responsible for yourself, and you were so brave in leaving that behind, and Clarke …" His eyes were huge in wonder and admiration and she stopped breathing – "You are doing so well. You reconcile your university and house work so well, you manage to have a social life and you look healthy. I have so much _respect_ for what you did and how well you cope with it."

Her wet cheeks were forgotten. Clarke looked at Bellamy with an open mouth, flabbergasted at the veneration in his eyes. She tried to find her voice again and swallowed hard. "You … I never knew you thought that way." She cleared her throat and squeezed his hands. "I mean, I always thought you hated me for my privilege." More silent, she added: "And I still live off my parent's education fund."

"Well, you'd be totally mad if you didn't. When you were moving out, I thought you were totally crazy for turning your mum's support down", Bellamy said, looking down on their hands. "Even with all that trouble going on in your family. – O told me some of it", he said at her startled expression. "But believe me when I say it only made you stronger. Gosh, Clarke, you step into a room and everybody dances to your tune. People look up to you and I … I trust you, Clarke."

Clarke watched his face. It was so open, so unlocked, so faithful. She chocked up a bit.

"And I think you should call your mum again", he said. He stroke her knee and stood up to get her some tissues. Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. After blowing her nose, she reached out for her phone and settled back onto his bed, back resting against the wall.

"Thank you, Bellamy", she said silently to him standing next to her, looking up through her eye lashes.

He nodded shortly. "Want me to leave?"

"No, please, stay here." She patted the space on his bed next to her and when he sat, she reached for his hand. And his big, rough and warm fingers folded around hers, and a breeze of relief, unity and hope rushed to her. Suddenly she thought she'd be able to go through anything as long as Bellamy hold her hand. She pushed that childish (yet very pleasant) thought away and called her mum.

Abigail picked up after the fourth signal.

"Clarke!", she said, excitement in her voice.

Suddenly, all her chains bursts and her throat closed off again. "Mum?"

She barely registered how Bellamy reassuringly squeezed her left hand. All she could focus on was her mum's voice in her phone. "I'm so happy you called again, I was in a meeting and this place is like hell right now. There is a charge against the clinic and Marcus is running his feet bloody, trying to negotiate a way out of it. – No, no, go ask Jackson, …" As her mum gave commands to a staff member, relief flood through Clarke's veins and she closed her eyes to sink into the feeling. "Plus, a doctor can't be found and seems to be sick, too, so I barely get a free minute." Clarke hears how a door was shut and abruptly, there were no more hectic noises of a clinic but only her mum.

"Oh, Clarke. Hope you're well."

Clarke cleared her throat. "I sent you a mail", she said quietly.

Abby hesitated for a moment. "Yes, you did." Then: "Look, Clarke, I never thought you felt that way. I just wanted to help."

"I know", Clarke said, new tears filling her eyes. "But this is working, okay? I'm all good, you don't need to … "

"I will _always_ feel the need to protect you, Clarke", Abby said rationally. "You're my daughter." Then, after a moment and more hushed: "You're the only one left."

Clarke sniffed. She whispered, "I know." She swallowed hard and then silently said: "Mum, I miss him."

She heart how Abby took a deep breath. "I miss him, too. This is not very easy, still. I miss him every day."

It's been two years and for the first time, they did something close to talking about it.

"Oh, Clarke, I wish I could hug you right now."

Silent tears run down Clarke's cheeks. Abby's love for her seeped through the phone and she realised that loving her mum and working with her … it was way more easy and rewarding than arguing with her.

Violently, Clarke brushed the tears away and grabbed Bellamy's hand again right after.

"Don't worry, I'm at the Blake's right now."

"Good", Abby said delighted. "I don't want you to be alone."

Clarke turned her head and looked into Bellamy's face. Smirking a bit, she replied: "I'm not alone." And she couldn't quite read Bellamy's expression first – was it goodness, pride, affection? – but he hold her hand tight and pulled it into his chest. She could feel his heart beat and breathing and she nearly missed Abby's question.

"… meet on the weekend?"

"What? Yeah, sure!

"How about brunch on Sunday?"

Clarke tried to remember her calender. "Should be fine. Yes, let's do it."

"Great, I'll pick you up at eleven?"

"Deal." She grinned into herself. Then, she tensed and sat up straight. "So, mum."

"Hm-mh."

"I'm very grateful for your financial support, it's helping me so much, really. But can we agree on the fact that you let me study and as soon as things don't work out, like, I don't know, I fail in too many classes or get shitty grades or just need some help, I reach out to you and we talk through it? And apart from that, you let me be in charge?"

Abby chuckled a bit. "I hope you reach out to me a little bit _before_ you fail classes."

"Okay, all right."

"Then it's settled. I'm sorry, Clarke, really, I just need to get used to you being away from me … but being still _there_ , you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean", Clarke said honestly. "I love you, mum."

There was no moment of hesitation when Abby answered: "I love you, too, darling."

"So, tell me about that charge and how Marcus is all haywire."

Abby laughed and told Clarke about a difficult patient with an even more difficult operation. Bellamy, who understood that the intense part of the conversation was over, moved to stand up. Putting all thankfulness into her eyes she could collect, Clarke smiled at him and let him go.

"I'll make dinner?", he mouthed.

She nodded and whispered: "I'll help you."

"No, stay here." And he walked into the kitchen.

As Abby told Clarke how she eases Marcus down, Clarke changed into more comfortable pants and cuddled herself onto Bellamy's bed. The fabrics were incredible soft and the pillows big and crushy. She tucked her feet under the quilt at the end of the bed and felt like she could stay there all night.

"Okay, my break is over. I need to see what my patients are doing."

"Sure. Take care, mum."

"You too. See you on Sunday."

"See you." She hung up and looked out of the window.

A storm seemed to come, the branches danced more hectic and sudden, the grey sky turned dark. Now that she had ended the call, dark spirits started to slowly creep out of their niches once more, approaching and cornering her. She felt being watched, but Bellamy was still working in the kitchen and O wasn't home. She pressed a small pillow into her stomach, hoping it would help and release the pressure and nausea. It only made her face tense up again.

Bellamy walked into his room with a tray in his hand. "Figured we could break all the rules now anyway and eat on the bed. Whatever the hell we want." He chuckled.

Clarke looked at him with a mocking shocked expression and laughed. He walked around and balanced the tray on the bed.

"Thank you, Bellamy", she said earnestly.

He smiled into himself and Clarke actually had to look at it in wonder. The way his outer edges curled up and his eyes squeezed shut were really unmatchable.

Clarke let her eyes drop to the tray. Noodles with tomato sauce and cheese were served in two white bowls. Her stomach tensed in a bad way and she had to swallow. Suddenly, she was very cold.

Arranging the silverware, Bellamy babbled about how that dish had always helped him and Octavia to feel better. Clarke tried to pull herself together, because Bellamy did not deserve her sickened expression. He had helped her, had told her nice things, had comforted her and now even made her dinner. He deserved to see a happy Clarke.

She quickly grabbed a bowl and forced a smile, saying thanks. They made themselves comfortable and Clarke forced herself through eating from the bowl. The food was delicious, it warmed her from within, but it did not help to let the memories disappear. When she had eaten half of it, tears started to drop into the sauce, again, and she was so sick of it. She put her head back and let out a frustrated "damn".

Bellamy looked up and saw her tears, his expression alarmed immediately. Clarke didn't react and blinked, trying to force her tears back again.

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

His voice was so miserable and so dark that she had to look at him. He sat cross-legged, the bowl in one of his large, dark hands, but his shoulders sunken and head dropped.

"Why are you sorry?", Clarke asked silently, pushing the tears away.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he looked up at her and his expression startled her. The tension around his eyes, the grimace around his mouth, everything of him, even his nostrils, screamed at her what a fool she was for not realising how _bad_ he was in truth. It shocked her because she couldn't think of anyone who cared more about his people than Bellamy.

"I told you to tell your mother to leave you alone. Look at what it got you."

She groaned in her head and got defences up. "Yeah, I see what it got me. It got me a long-overdue talk about my life, about my mum's support and about the death of my father. Bellamy, it was _right_." And with underlining force she put her bowl onto the tray.

He still looked at her doubtingly, searching for a hidden drawback. With as much assuring force as she could handle, she said right into his face: "I need you, okay? I wouldn't got this far without you." Then, warmer: "You're forgiven, okay?" And she reached to knee and squeezed it softly.

His eyes flickered over her face, down her body, to the tray, to her eyes, disbelieving, seeing glory, soft. There were some tears in them and the sad sparkle they created made Clarke's heart ache. Then, Bellamy took a long breath and focused on her. "But you don't seem really happy."

Clarke dropped her head. All of the misery in her body was there again, poking her, making her sick. "Because I'm not." The palms of her hands were pressed together between her tights, tears started to emerge once again and she was so, so sick of it. Because now, some long buried ghosts came crawled up again.

"Tell me", Bellamy said softly and put the tray away.

Her throat hurt and her head ached from all the sniffle. "No."

"Clarke ..."

"No, Bellamy, you don't need to do this. You don't need to sooth any more crying."

"God, Clarke, don't abandon me here. Talk to me … please."

But she couldn't because she had put up her legs and now covered her face between knees and hands. Heavy sobs shuttered her whole body. Bellamy crawled closer and stroke a hand up and down her back.

Desperately, Clarke shouted: "I want it to stop, I want to stop crying, I want to stop feeling weak, but, but when I was sick, I always got noodles in a bowl from my dad and it just –"

Suddenly, Bellamy was around her. He embraced her back and knees, pressing her against his front and her body was shaking with sobs. As the emptiness she felt after her father's death crushed her again, he held her together, and he was keeping her. He slowly put his head next to hers. He soothed her with his presence and Clarke's lungs worked easier with him around.

"I'm so sorry", he breathed close to her ear. "I didn't know –"

"You couldn't", Clarke interrupted him, the effect of her stuffy nose destroyed by her fierceness. She moved so she could see in his face easily and Bellamy gave her some space. Lost in thought, she said: "You'd think it gets easier at some point. But it probably was obligated to come up, now, too. That whole week, and my mum …" Her voice broke. "We haven't talked about it like that in … ever, I think."

Bellamy looked at her, searched her eyes, a thumb rubbing slowly over her shoulder where he held her.

"I think about my mother a lot", he said softly. "What she'd do, how she'd lived. What she'd think about O and me. And I have so many things I'd like to tell her and show her and I …"

They looked at each other and understood. The things they experienced and the feelings which came with it, they were so similar. They were in the same boat. There probably was no-one who could relate to them the way they could relate to each other.

Clarke leaned into him and dumped her nose to his shoulder.

They sat like that for a long while, legs next to each other, arms wrapped around, heads close. Clarke didn't have to express her emotional state to Bellamy, he knew exactly what thoughts crossed her mind. And by her presence, by her seeking comfort from him, Clarke could let Bellamy feel worth, good, enough. The grey clouds outside turned darker, the lamps in Bellamy's room lighter and their food cold.

The same mute way they had leaned into each other earlier, they now leaned away. They looked each other in the eyes and saw the peace, the relief, the melancholia, and knew: They had overcome this wave of depression, hearts not fully healed but pasted. They had done this together and there was hope.

They were surrounded by a strong, comforting bubble of trust and closeness. And Clarke rested one hand on Bellamy's tight, and Bellamy lazily played with one of Clarke's strand of hair.

"What would you like to show your mother?", Clarke said quietly, eyes fixed on his incredible long lower arm.

Bellamy's voice was dark and harsh. "You, for starters."

Clarke's gaze hushed over Bellamy's strong torso, his curly hair, his sharp jawbone and caught his burning eyes. Their eyes locked intensely for a heated moment until his gaze dropped to her lips.

And suddenly, everything was there again. How they had kissed in front of his door, how his lips had felt under hers, how he had pulled her into him, how her breath had stopped and now her breath had stopped, too, and the only logical thing was to clinch to him –

And she moved forward and Bellamy's hand moved from her strand to her neck and as if they'd already done this a thousand times, their lips met.

He was so warm under her, moving with her, embracing her. She grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, her stomach flipped and she felt incredibly light and his breath and smell and body was everywhere. She could not see another thing, she couldn't hear another thing, she couldn't sense another thing than Bellamy all around her, taking up her vision, rustling, hugging her whole back. And she didn't want to.

As her tongue flipped over his lips, he let go a heavy deep groan. The noise rushed through her whole body, making goosebumps, and she slit her tongue between his parted lips. The hot wetness made her shiver and she desperately needed to move. The way they sat half next, half behind each other created a difficult angle and she couldn't feel as much Bellamy as she wanted to. She had been pressed into him earlier by the door, whole body to his side, and gosh, she wanted that again.

So she clasped her other hand on his shoulder, reinforced her kiss, trying to stable herself before moving her hips but before she could do anything more, Bellamy gave into her pull and pressed her back down on the mattress.

Deep sensation rushed through her veins and Bellamy was everywhere. His torso shielded most of the light in the room, took up most of her vision and she felt his heat radiating from him. Their bellies didn't touch, but Bellamy hovered over her, his head in the crook of her neck, kissing and licking lines and Clarke stretched her head to give him more room. He arranged his legs so that one lay by her side, the other one between hers. Every touch ran right to her belly and when she could feel his tongue behind her ears, she let go a shattered groan.

She grabbed his head, tried to find a hold between his dark curls, and pulled him back to her face. She copped his jaws with her hands and stretched upwards to meet his lips when Bellamy stopped and slowly pulled away. Really away. When he sat up, his expression clearly indicated he thought this was a bad idea. He stared into emptiness and the room between them was incredibly big, cold and empty. Rain drops clashed against the huge windows.

She swallowed. She tried to throw the feeling of rejection far out of the window and followed him, sitting up too. "Spit it out", she said in a slightly annoyed tone. She tried to cool down again, slowing her breath and blood.

He looked miserable. He pressed his lips together in a small, long line, clenching his jaw. "I'm not doing it." He didn't look at her.

Her expression faltered. Numerous thoughts rushed through her brain, setting it on fire, panicking her, but she needed to stay calm and untroubled. She was a grown-up and could handle this.

"Okay", she said and then her voice was croaky. "Why?"

Bellamy sat at the opposite corner of his bed – as far as he could get, a shrill voice screamed in her mind, and they didn't touch anywhere any more and she felt incredible cold and her breath went fast. He still didn't look at her.

"I'm not taking advantage of …" He waved around her. His voice was hard and hurting, relentless, cold. "... of your emotional state."

Something in her shattered.

Bellamy cleared his throat. "You obviously don't have a clear head right now. With everything going on." He turned away from her. And that movement, that putting down on leg to the ground, that showing her his back, that made her snap.

"Don't you _dare_ to speak for myself when it comes to my feelings for you."

It sounded way harsher, more bitter than she had wanted and he yanked his head up. His eyes carefully, closely flowed around her face, trying to read her and what she meant. If he'd got a clue, he didn't seem to comprehend it.

And Clarke sighed. "Oh, Bellamy", she said, getting on her knees and crawling towards him. She was aware how she showed off her boobs by that and when she saw how Bellamy swallowed, she silently hoped that if she couldn't convince him with words or heart, maybe her body could. She craned and halted inches before his head. Their eyes were on the same level and she could see the three moles on the bridge of his nose. Seriously, she said:

"I came to you because I needed you. You, no one else. Doesn't that mean anything?"

His mouth was distorted, his eyes haunted. He didn't believe her. She cupped his jaws and held his gaze. "I needed _your head_ , your brain, your spirits. I didn't need your body." She chuckled quietly. "Although it's a nice addition, to be honest."

He covered his face in the crook of her neck.

"Clarke", he breathed.

She closed her eyes. When he whispered, his lips brushed across her naked skin, his warm breath made her shiver and she nearly let go a moan. "I don't want this to be a one time thing."

She smiled. "Then I bet you're lucky. Because me neither."

"Really?"

"Really."

He raised his head and one large hand of his found her knee, the other one rested at her waist. His head hovered over hers, curls, amber skin, elegantly curved lips. She looked at him and there was his scar, his hollow in his chin, his prominent philtrum between mouth and nose. Shadows of beard, shadows under his eyes, moles and wrinkles. Everything was at its place and deep sensation rushed through her heart. She smiled at him and he chuckled.

Bellamy leaned forward until their noses softly bumped into each other. With closed eyes, they let their noses explore; they inhaled their closeness, their longing, their trust. Bellamy opened his mouth and out came a hoarse, throaty question:

"Together?"

And Clarke's hand reached for his chin, embracing his jaw and while she perceived the contrast of her small, light fingers on his strong, dark skin, she nodded and let go a smile. "Together."

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 **Important note:** The original version of the next chapter begins with an explicit part (1,2k words). Due to the community guidelines of , I have chosen to not upload that part of the chapter - and taken care that the story still makes a lot of sense without it. So, no intense love-making in the next chapter here. However, if you want to read it, head over to ao3 where you can find the story under the same name (both title and author). Hope you understand my reasoning and have fun reading it nevertheless.


	6. Bliss

A/N: Remember, explicit beginning of this chapter can only be found on ao3 (both the fic and me with the same name as here). Just let me say: THINGS GOT HEATED and they were sweet. Now let's see how this ride ends!

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They lay entangled under Bellamy's blanket, slowly coming back to reality in each other's arms. Clarke stroke her finger over the skin at his back and pressed her nose onto his collarbone. "I guess I can stay here tonight?", she whispered.

She more than anything _felt_ how Bellamy chuckled, the twitch going through his whole body, making hers move as well. Fast breath on her hair, a soft sound by her ear. She looked up to him to meet his eyes.

She had never seen Bellamy so content before, so relaxed and so … _happy_.

"You certainly aren't going anywhere", he mouthed and readjusted his arms around her.

"You look goofy", she said with a small smile. Then she moved. "But I have to pee. And I have to be at uni at nine tomorrow."

Bellamy sighed. "Way to ruin the mood, Clarke."

But he pressed a kiss onto her hair, so Clarke didn't feel too bad. She freed herself, pressed a kiss onto the freckles on his nose and said: "Will be back right away."

As she walked out of the room a bit unstable and slowly, she heard how Bellamy sat up and she felt his gaze on her. She moved her hips overly precisely and when she heard a frustrated grown and him falling back onto the bed, she grinned. Yes. She could get used to this.

The alarm clock rang off at seven and they woke up entangled, with heavy bones and arms gone dead. Clarke couldn't nearly reach her phone to shut it off because Bellamy's arm hold her tight. But he had ruffled hair and sleepy eyes and a pleased smile and there was an _inexhaustible,_ glowing warmth in Clarke's chest, and things were looking really, really well.

The morning developed to be quite wild, a crazy mixture of lazy cuddling, rushed showering and eating breakfast, sloppy and heated kisses under neon lights, soft touches and strong hugs in the cold air.

Dark and grey rain clouds covered the sun again. Bellamy offered Clarke to drive her to university, stopping by her place so she could grab her books. She thanked him with a heated, intense make-out session, pressing him onto the coats at the wardrobe, nibbling at his ear lobe, hand clenching around his arm.

Despite more kisses, touches, words, they arrived at campus on time (mostly thanks to Clarke's ongoing side-glances to the clock). Bellamy parked in front of her building and as his hand left the gear shift, she took it in hers. She stroke over his fingers, the back and palm and tried to remember every little wrinkle.

* * *

Because of conflicting work and lesson plans, they didn't see each other until the next night. But they had texted, a lot, and Clarke's soul was light and pleased. Cafeteria food could be as shitty as it was, professors could lecture her class for ages about the correct disposal of chemicals, rain could fall onto her head but it couldn't get to her. She felt released, light, things were manageable and there was light all around her. And she knew whose fault it was. The tears, the talking, the released tension, the sex, it all had helped, but mostly it was simply _Bellamy_.

They'd pull this off together.

Even her evening seminar on Friday didn't annoy her as much as it used to; she had been at her apartment during her long lunch break, cleaned it up a bit and packed a sleep-over bag. As soon as the tutor said his good-byes, Clarke fled and grabbed the bus to pizza and game night at the Blake's.

As usual on Fridays, she was the last. Octavia opened the door for her and pulled her into a strong hug.

"Everyone is in Bellamy's room, we had to throw them out of the kitchen _because they're useless!_ ", Octavia shouted into the general direction of the rest. Clarke took her shoes and jacket off. Octavia continued: "Lincoln has those new ideas for pizza toppings and _of course_ Bellamy wouldn't let anyone else do the dough so _I_ have to watch out the two of them don't ruin the kitchen."

"Yeah, you have to suffer a lot", Clarke said with a smile. The girls grinned at each other and walked down the corridor to where the kitchen and Bellamy's door were across each other.

Clarke peeked into Bellamy's room. Everyone sat on the floor in a circle, half discussing game proposals, half observing the kitchen through the open doors. "Hi everyone!"

"Hiiii!", a general welcome.

Clarke turned to the kitchen. The small kitchen was filled out by two huge bodies bending over opposite worktops. Lincoln was already rolling out dough on a sheet, but, fuck Lincoln, _Bellamy_ kneaded dough in a bowl.

"How did the lab report go?", Raven shouted after Clarke.

Bellamy's arms moved fast over the bowl, the muscles exposed by his shirt flexed and the golden kitchen light let his skin glow like copper against his olive clothes.

"Urgh, fine in the end", Clarke half-heartedly answered Raven. With two steps, she was by his side and slid her left arm around his waist. "Hey", she said softly.

Bellamy turned his face – which wore a goofy grin –, said "Hey" and their lips met. The kiss was soft, and sweet, and promised more. It didn't feel like two days ago at his door, where everything had been supposed to be fake. Now, it was real and true and open. And it felt _better._ She peeked into the bowl. "What are you making?"

"Pizza dough, obviously …", Bellamy said.

"Are you doing this right?", she smirked. She stole a bit of the dough and moved her fingers to her mouth. She noticed how Bellamy's eyes followed her hand and how he stared at her lips when she opened them and she suddenly remembered what she had done with those lips to him two nights ago, and he seemed to remember it, too, because his eyes turned into fire and a warm shiver ran down her back. She slowly put the dough into her mouth, lips closing around her finger and Bellamy's jaw clenched and then she let go her finger with a loud smacker. Like she had planned, the sexual tension disappeared; she chewed shortly on the dough and said lightly: "Tastes good."

Bellamy looked like a child whose soap bubble broke and Clarke smirked up to him, as if to say "Got you!". Then Bellamy laughed out loud and pressed a kiss on her cheek and Clarke giggled into his shoulder.

There was an uproar in Bellamy's room. They turned around and saw the people staring flabbergasted at them, with open mouths and huge eyes.

"Did you just –?!", Jasper shouted, pointing at them.

Like a deer in the headlights, Bellamy and Clarke started back at the group. There was silence for a few beats.

Octavia started to laugh. "Take a room next time?"

"You guys are in my room", Bellamy grumbled and massacred the dough. "And I'm not taking yours, O."

"Uh, gross", Octavia said.

Lincoln sighed. "Clarke, can you pass me the tomato sauce from the fridge, please?", Lincoln asked over his shoulder.

"Sure", she said and some activity came back into the kitchen. Clarke went over to the fridge and Bellamy and Lincoln turned to their respective doughs again.

"No, no, no, no", Raven said. "You don't get off with that because of tomato sauce!"

"Seriously, guys", Harper said. "You have to give us more intel!"

Monty groaned.

"Since when are you …?", Octavia asked.

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other through the kitchen and came to the conclusion that Clarke would do the PSA. She took a breath. "Since Wednesday evening. And there isn't really more besides that we're together now. So yeah. Things as usual."

Raven nearly choke and Bellamy grinned. "As usual?", he whispered.

"Shut up, you know what I mean", Clarke said and put tomato sauce on the dough like Lincoln wanted it. Bellamy just chuckled.

"You owe me!", Jasper shouted and there was tumult. "Reyes, you owe me!"

"The fuck I do."

"Wait, what?", Bellamy shouted into his room. "You took bets?"

"Yeah, well", Raven grumbled. "After last Friday, Little Jasper here was so in love with you guys –" A pillow was being thrown and Raven dryly added, looking to Bellamy: "And I couldn't believe you'd grow up enough to want a stable relationship like Clarke would want."

Clarke's and Bellamy's eyes met through the kitchen and Clarke's face slowly showed astonishment. If they knew that Bellamy had been the one to voice his seriousness … But they didn't have to. Clarke and Bellamy knew what had happened, and how it was mutual, and steady, and the others didn't have to know it. The smile they exchanged was sheepish and conspiratorial. She added it to the list of things she liked to do with Bellamy.

"First sheet is in the oven!", Lincoln shouted and went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Bellamy cleared his throat and washed his hands. Loud enough for people to hear, he said: "Well, thank god then it worked out fine."

She stepped next to him and bantered: "You should thank whoever you switched shifts with. Since it got you a girlfriend after all!"

He laughed out loud. "That'd be Miller."

"I'll thank him one day."

Their faces had come closer and Bellamy finally turned around. He stroke across her cheek and copped her face. And their lips met and they kissed and she stroke her fingers over his arms and a warm prickle went down her back and her knees went weak and she had to come up for breath.

As she looked into his brown, melting eyes, embracing his wrists with her fingers, she put everything she had in her eyes. Would she ever be able to believe this?

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A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. I love you! I'd also like to hear what you thought but no pressure. Love you loads!


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